


the review

by Saje



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Multi, New York City, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saje/pseuds/Saje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York City, not the end</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, let me know what you think good or bad, it is welcomed.

Brian poured himself a healthy dose of Beam and moved to the window of their penthouse apartment. He liked being able to look out over the city. Most people thought he did it to feel superior. But for Brian, the bigger the vista, the more connected he felt. Justin had moved here over a year ago. Just the thought, made something squeeze tight in Brian's chest. He had been sure that would be the end of their relationship, and would have accepted it as necessary, but Justin would not let him go and Brian could not fight it long.  Business had been exceedingly profitable, so he had left Theodore in charge of Pittsburgh and brought Cynthia with him to New York and opened a second branch of Kinnetik offices in an abandoned train station in Manhattan. He hired the best talent from all over the country and it showed. He had already made enough money to live a luxurious life and never work another day. 

Maybe that was the problem. 

Justin had been working his ass off since he got here, and while he'd had some success, it was nothing on the scale of what he had been led to believe.  _Damn their friends,_ he thought. Filling his pretty little head with dreams of instant fame and fortune.  He was talented, sure, but that didn't always equal a paycheck. Justin had success with the comics, and could certainly live comfortably on the proceeds, but it was not enough for him. Brian offered help, of course, but Justin refused. It had sparked one of their most heated arguments, and Justin had left in a foul mood. That was two days ago. Brian knew he was staying at the studio, but it pissed him off anyway. He missed the little fucker.

Brian understood the feelings of frustration and betrayal all too well. Trying to become what you want for yourself, while life conspires to hold you in place. He'd gone through it himself on many occasions and knew that the anger it caused was acidic because their was no one to blame. Add to that, Justin's latest show had sold out and he had been elated.

The phone on his desk rang and Brian ignored it, chuffing back the last of his liquor. The machine answered.

 

"Brian" it was Cynthia " I know you're there, pick up the phone."

A pause.

"Fine, brood. It's what you do best. Well, probably second best."  _The minx._ " So I'm calling to tell you to put on your big boy pants and call me back so we can figure out what to do about the review."

The review. It was what had set Justin off in the first place. Justin had fucked four tricks that night and it was one of the hottest things Brian had ever seen. Watching Justin top was one of Brian's secret pleasures. Using techniques that he himself had taught..

" _Damn!"_   His cock was hard just thinking about it.

The phone rang again, and hoping his thoughts had influenced reality and it was Justin, he picked up the handset.

"Hey Bri," no such luck.

"Theodore, whatever it is can wait til morning"

"Actually, I heard you might need someone to lend a friendly ear.."

" I don't need your ear, Ted, or any other friendly parts." Brian said with a teasing sneer and before Ted could launch into one of his well meaning and often too insightful speeches, Brian hung up. He felt bad for about half a second, realized that Ted knew he was an asshole and let it go.

_Fuck this shit. He's coming home tonight._

Brian his send on his computer, picked up the keys and cellphone, and walked out.

 

                                                                                                                   ***********************************************

 


	2. the review

The last words of the review repeated incessantly in Justin's head.

" _Was the showing a sell out because Justin Taylor  art is good, or because Brian Kinney marketing is better?"_

Jesus, that hurt. Even here he was in Brian's shadow. He had a hard time reconciling his love for Brian with the need to have his own identity. And wasn't that why Brian had pushed him to come to here in the first place, and why Brian had resisted coming for almost six months? Even then Brian had known this was a possible outcome and damn if he hadn't been right again. Because of that, Justin's foul mood over the review, twisted itself into anger and blame. At himself, for letting Brian handle his promoting, and at Brian for not anticipating the results.

Justin ignored the paint that splattered him as he briskly worked. Turning back to pick up a different color, he noticed Brian in the darkness by the door. Ignoring him completely he went back to the large canvas and furiously applied the black paint he was so fond of. His body practically vibrating with rage.

 _So that's the way of it, huh?_ Brian made quick work of his clothes and  stalked up behind Justin, grabbing a handful of his hair, and another of his cock silently demanding his attention. Justin's whole body went rigid, denying him. Brian wasn't going to allow that. He was tired and hungry and horny. Not about to let Justin stew any longer, Brian yanked on Justin's hair until he had fully exposed the side of his neck which he immediately buried his face in. Slipping his free hand into Justin's pocket, he pulled out the ever present condom.

Justin broke out of his grasp and whirled to face him, ready to fight, but Brian was clearing space in the middle of his worktable. Still not speaking, Brian grasped his chin and forced him to look him in the eye.  _You're allowed to be angry, I can take it, will take it, if that is what you need from me._ He pressed the condom into Justin's hand leaned over the worktable and grasped the far edge.

Justin saw this for what it was. A way to divest himself of his anger. Not bothering with his clothes, he freed his dick and positioned himself behind Brian. The studio echoed from the slap he delivered and Brian flinched but said nothing, did nothing. Giving Justin free reign to use him.

Needing no other incentives, he quickly rolled on the condom. Leaning over his back, he stuck two fingers into Brian's mouth, where they were sucked on until coated with saliva. Justin was already panting when he thrust those fingers into Brian's ass and worked him quickly open. Brian was practiced at relaxing for his own comfort, but Justin's first angry thrust sent him balls deep and Brian pulled in air through clenched teeth. Reaching back to hold Justin's hip was rewarded with another resounding slap and his hand forced back to the table's edge. Justin gripped Brian's shoulder and jerked him back to meet his second thrust, and the third, and the fourth. It was violent enough to have the contents of his table knocking together and spilling. Paint leaked across the table top and pooled where it met Brian's skin. Justin leaned one hand on the table near Brian's  hip  to attain more force, shoving his dick with almost no finesse. He was not interested in Brian's enjoyment, only in his own need to free the demons within himself.

Justin grew more fervent and moved both hands to  the hips in front of him, inadvertently smearing paint. Feeling a thrill at this, Justin purposely stuck his hand in the paint again and placed it just below Brian's left shoulder blade.  _I'm marking you as mine,_ and slid it down, leaving a spread fingered hand print and a long smear all the way to the indent at the top of Brian's ass. Brian had not attempted to move again and Justin's pace had sweat rolling off both of them. Justin tipped his head back and snarled when he came, letting go of most of the fury but still aware of a vague sense of self-doubt and a large dose of reality.

Backing away to toss the condom gave Brian space to stand, turn, and lean back against the table. Paint dripped off the edge. Fishing a cigarette out of the almost ruined pack lying there, he put it to his lips and lit it with a long pull that had it glowing brightly. Justin watched him cross his legs at the ankle and take another drag. As he exhaled Brian rubbed his hand over his own chest and Justin noticed the fiery red chafing the coarse wood of the table had left. It ran from his pecs all the way down to a horizontal line just beginning to show signs of bruising above his hipbones. He realized then that Brian had angle his hips below the edge in deference to his shorter height, ignoring his pain.

Guilt swamped Justin and made it hard to breath.  Borrowing Brian's gesture by raking  a hand through his hair, he came to stand in front of him, not touching. Looking him straight in the eye,  _I'm sorry._ Brian acknowledged it by letting his free hand find its favorite spot on Justin's neck and pulling him in until their foreheads touched.  _I understand and there is nothing to forgive._ The residual tension left both of them as Justin leaned into the embrace and they both sighed. 

" Hungry?"

" Better have it delivered. Covered in this much paint, we look like a couple of nutcases."  Justin said as he began to clean up the mess.


	3. Chapter 3

Brian was standing at the head of the conference table with Cynthia seated next him leading a staff meeting when Justin stormed in and threw a newspaper at his chest the next afternoon.

"Why did you do it?" He paced like a caged animal and was so caught up in himself that he did not take note of the response his entrance had elicited.

Everyone else did. They were all acquainted with Brian's displeasure and did whatever they could not to court it. He did not suffer fools and they all knew two things simultaneously. One:Brian was livid. Evidenced by the perfect stillness of his physical form, and Two: The  cold glitter of rage lurking in eyes that had gone so dark one could no longer see the difference between iris and pupil.

Justin practically fumed as he paced the length of the room taking in nothing around him. Oblivious.

Brian had not moved a muscle.

Cynthia tilted her head towards the door and the room erupted into pandemonium as everyone in attendance beat a hasty line for the exit and the relative safety of their offices. She thought that, in other circumstances, people tripping over the furniture to escape might have even been comical but nevertheless could not summon a smile. She had warned Brian that this could happen and had been upset when he had simply walked away.

For now, she quickly packed her papers into a folder and headed for the door. As she reached for the handle she turned with a question on her face but never voiced it when beautiful eyes met hers. She knew what she had to do but she didn't have to like it. Sighing to herself, she left, pausing just outside to wonder if Brian would be able to handle what was coming.

But, of course, he would. He always did.

So, with her heart heavy, she left him to do his part while she went to her office to do what he paid her very well to do. Manage.

                                                                                                   **************************************************************

The closing of the door was Justin's permission to vent his outrage.

"Don't even try to deny it Brian!"

"What, exactly, am I being blamed for  _this_ time?"

Justin missed it.

"You sent in a response to that stupid critic!"

"I sent a well worded response to a certain self-proclaimed expert, and reminded his readership that wealthy people have been supporting the arts and sponsoring specific artists for centuries so I fail to see why you are so upset...."

"What you fail to see is legion." Justin interrupted. "What you fail to see is that by not letting it go and sticking your nose in you have picked a fight in which others will feel compelled to choose sides! What you fail to see is that by calling him out, in true Kinney style, you have shifted the focus from my work to a discourse on our relationship! What you fail to see, is that you lent credence to his implication that I am a kept man. And worst of all, Brian, you fail to see that his implication that  _I_ am nothing without  _you,_  was validated.  _BY YOU,_ and your very well worded response. I can fight my own battles."

"I hardly think that anyone would..."

Again Justin cut him off mid-sentence, as he strode to the door. "That's right," he bit out, "you hardly think."

Then he was gone, never having once looked at the man responsible for his ire. Maybe, just maybe, he might have seen the glimmer of regret Brian couldn't quite hide. 

But he had not, and therefore did not.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben sat waiting in a plush side chair on the set of Tasha Lyons' hit show. He was fervently wishing that he had foregone this particular interview as he knew that it could end badly for him. She had not become famous for asking the easy questions, and had built and almost obsessive fan base, by doing the exact opposite. Many of her guests had been made a mockery of, ridiculed, called on the carpet for their hubris, and in the case of one foreign dignitary, been left sobbing like a child on national television. Her network of researchers were known for finding the dirt, which she then put on public display for all to see, resulting in some of the most candid, comical, and on occasion, heartbreaking scenes of live television ever recorded.

Ben looked to where Michael stood off the set, but still in his line of sight and remembered that he was a professor and public speaking was par for course.  _So why the nerves?_  He knew why. He was scared. Scared of the curve ball he knew  she would throw at him.

He had no more time to consider leaving though, since she chose that moment to enter the stage as various people followed in her wake. Ben took those few minutes to assess what he observed. Tasha was average height and weight for a woman he supposed, but managed to look taller and thinner with the addition of four inch Jimmy Choos  in ultra scarlet suede. She had not quite platinum blonde hair that ended in an edgy fray just below her ears making her look ten years younger than what her steel gray eyes said she actually was. As did the soft charcoal pantsuit. She handed her notes to her assistant and straightened before looking into the camera.

3,2,1,

"Welcome back to the Tasha Lyons Show, we have with us for this final segment, Professor and author Ben Bruckner. His recent book "The Bug Chaser" is enjoying its 34th week on the New York Times Bestseller List, Welcome Ben." She finally acknowledged his presence by turning slightly to face him, and Ben wished briefly that he had convinced Michael to stay at the hotel instead of coming to the set. She had not given any outward sign of what was to come, but he had seen something feral in her gaze when she looked at him.

"Thank you for having me Ms. Lyons, I'm glad to be here."

" I have to say, Ben, that I'm a little  concerned about your chosen subject. Your main character, the bug chaser, seeking out HIV positive men in order to become infected himself is somewhat disturbing."

"Yes it is." Hopefully short responses will get this over with while avoiding any traps.

"Don't you think, as many of the public do, that you glamorizing this in your novel will send the wrong message to whomever decides to read it?"

Ben took a drink of water to steady himself. " No I don't"  _Take that._

" So you don't believe that your  book could encourage young people to follow in the footsteps of your novel and seek to become infected? Similar things have happened before. Fans have dressed up to resemble favored characters in books and shows for quite some time now and even attend conventions dedicated to those fans. Life imitating art so to speak."

Another drink of water and a steadying breath. "Any one that has actually read the book would realize that I did not as you say, glamorize the situation. They would in fact realize that  throughout the entire novel, my feelings against doing that are very clear. I understand the motivation, but I would never promote actively self infecting. I have been very clear on this in previous interviews and started a foundation to help educate and curtail this particular issue."

It was then that Ben realized that she had been soft shoeing him into the corner that she wanted him and took a fleeting glance at Michael. He had no idea.

" I'm glad that you mentioned the foundation. I understand that it was started before your book was a success and was funded with the proceeds from your husband's comic book profits. A comic book that has been described as pornographic in nature."

Ben felt, rather than saw, Michael blanch.

Another drink of water and he pressed his lips together then said almost jovially " Was there a question in there?"  _Strike two._

She chuckled a little at that conceding the point. Holding up a copy of the book for the cameras she quipped "Beautiful artwork, by the way. I have seen all the promotional work done for you and I am astounded every time by the amount and quality of design that went into it. I believe Kinnetic was your agency, was it not?"

A swig this time and Ben gripped the chair arms to steady himself. "Yes, it  _is."_

"And Kinnetic also handles the promotion of the comic book "Rage" as well, for your husband."

The last of the water in his glass, and a desperate urge to pee.

"It does. As well as the advertising for the foundation, and probably a couple thousand other brands that I know nothing about. Just in case that was your next question" Ben couldn't keep the sneer hidden. 

A snicker this time as she reached over and placed her hand over  his  in a seemingly comforting manner. "So I guess my question is: Don' t you feel the least hypocritical when you espouse family values. but your lover creates porn, your son is a hustler, and the man running your marketing pretty much redefines promiscuity? Not to mention the fact that it has been circulated that you nearly beat someone to death at a peaceful vigil after a bombing in Pittsburgh?"

Ben tried to move his hand but could not do so given the grip she had taken on it. He was positive that it was not in view of the camera, but Michael saw it and made to step forward only to be stopped by the barely perceptible shake of Ben's head.

"I am not here to discuss my family and friends. Since there seem to be no more questions for me about the book, I am going to excuse myself, as I have a sudden need to wash my hands." That being said he stood, pulled his hand from her grip, and moved off of the stage.

What he would not see, until later when the show was re-aired on the internet, was the expression on her face. Looking into the cameras with one eyebrow slightly raised, daring anyone watching to defy that he had confirmed exactly what she had accused him of.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian boarded his private jet the same way he had a hundred times before, sharing light greetings with the crew and handing over his briefcase and overcoat. He did not really know where they were stowed, just that they were taken away and returned as needed. Settling into his preferred spot in the corner of the leather sofa and kicking off his shoes. God he hated shoes. Not on principle really, just the confinement they represented. Admitting to himself that he felt that way about clothes in general he wondered if he could get away with just going through life as he really wished he could. Naked. Free, unconfined, openly naked. A smile peeked along the left edge of his mouth but didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew that his friends thought he was a label queen, but the truth was, if he had to put anything next to his skin he wanted it to feel good. His clothes had to feel just right, not to tight or loose, soft or firm, but just right. He half chuckled as he remembered being called Goldilocks, and figured that it was probably apt in this case.

Caryn, the attendant, brought him his usual snifter Johnny Walker and asked if he needed anything else.

"A couple of painkillers if you've got 'em." then Leaned back into the corner and closed his eyes.  _Fuck this day is never going to end._

Lindsay had called his cell while he was still in the throes of Justin's tantrum, and he had not been able to bring himself to return the call right away. If the munchers had called him, it could not be good. So he had spent the next hour brooding, as Cynthia called it, about  the  next steps he had to take. For his businesses and himself.  _When did life get so complicated? When you stuck your nose in and started paying attention, asshole!_  

That was not entirely accurate, though, since he ALWAYS paid attention, so it was probably more accurate to say it got complicated when he started to CARE.  _And when the fuck had THAT happened anyway?_ Brian really did not want to answer that, and was saved from doing so by Caryn's return.

"Uh, I'm so sorry Mr. Kinney, but I don't have any regular painkillers on board right now.But I do have uh, some um....."

Brian would have laughed at her obvious embarrassment if she wasn't also clutching her right hand tightly in her left.

"You okay?" concern wrinkled his brow.

Taking a breath as if girding her loins, she opened her fist and offered it for inspection.

Brian saw the two little oblong blue pills but did not recognize them. Which in and of itself was a new experience and cause for  mild curiosity.

"What are they?" His eyes twinkled at the prospect of an illicit  drug he had not taken before.

Caryn correctly interpreted his assumption and decided it might be just a bit of fun to tweak the tail of the beast, if only to see those enchanting eyes a little longer.

"Just take them. They will fix the headache I see brewing and they will help with the  stiffness in your shoulders and back that I noticed when you handed over your things."

Brian was a little nonplussed that she had picked up on that tidbit.

"You realized if they kill me, the cops will know it was you pretty quickly since their are only four of us on board." He teased, and for a moment she was utterly charmed and instantly aware, not for the first time, how truly beautiful he really was when he let down his guard a bit.  _Land sake's it's a shame he's not straight,_ she thought. And not for the first time.

"Just take them and try to get a nap. It's a fairly short trip to Toronto, as you know, so take advantage of what you can." Once again she held out the pills.

Brian figured what the hell, and swallowed the pills and his liquor in one gulp. He then gave her the sexiest come hither look she had ever beheld, and voice dripping with sensual secrets, drawled "So, what were they?"

Backing out of reach, just in case, she gave him back tit for tat and with her voice dripping sensual secrets, replied "Midol."  And she relished the look of complete horror that had filled his face for the rest of the flight.

                                                                                                    ***********************************************************


	6. Chapter 6

Cynthia hated it when Brian was compelled to do things that he clearly did not want to do. Hated it on a level so fierce that it gnawed in her gut and sometimes (most times) drove her to the bottle of antacids she kept in her pocket, and her desk drawer, and her private bath, and her purse, and the console of her car, and her.... _FUCK!  Why do I do this?_ Shaking her head as if to clear it, she sat down in her lovely leather executive chair. Sighing at the way it cushioned without a sound, she let  her mind drift back over the most recent events in "the life of Brian" as she called it.

Justin's arrival had been somewhat anticipated, but expected later, and was now cause for rescheduling the staff meeting. The meeting had taken three weeks to put together so everyone could be in attendance and would now have to be done by conference call and not nearly as effective.  _The kid couldn't have waited two hours for Brian to leave the office? He had to do it publicly? But then Brian had called that too, hadn't he._ She wondered, often, what exactly it was that he saw in Justin. Sure, he was a fine specimen, especially since he had finally outgrown the last vestiges of twinkdom. Gone was the layer of softness that had shrouded him from head to toe for most of the time they had been together and in it's place was well honed but not sharply defined musculature. Added to that was the very short, almost military haircut he had worn since discovering that he spent almost as much time trying to get paint out of his hair as on the canvas. What had not changed was that smile. Sometimes she wanted to knock out a few of his teeth, until she had realized that it would not matter much, because it was the way his whole face lit up when he smiled. _Sunshine, indeed. Even in the middle of a fucking temper tantrum, he was beautiful to behold. Face flushed and eyes flashing defiance, he fairly glowed in the dark._

Of course none of that mattered. The  **only** thing that mattered, or ever would matter, to her was Brian's happiness. Her job was to do what he paid her to do. Well, that was not the whole of it, and never would be, but for right now that was as far as she was going to allow her train of thought to take her on that subject. 

So it was time to switch tracks and focus on Toronto. Cynthia pulled four antacids out and chewed them as she mulled over that development. Lindsay had called Brian's cell, and when it had gone to voicemail, tried his office line. That also not being answered (because they had not been in there) she had called Cynthia directly and asked to be connected with him. She had even gotten that proprietary tone when Cynthia had nicely stated that had he been able to answer he would have and therefore must be busy, and she would pass on any message that Lindsay might want to leave. 

"I just need to talk to him about our son as soon as possible." 

Oh, she had  _sounded,_ sweet enough, but it grated Cynthia's last nerve when Lindsay used those words,  _our son._

Not of course hers and Mel's, as anyone casually listening might assume, but the proprietary  _our son_ , meaning hers and Brian's. 

" I will let him know, just as soon as he is free from....'

Lindsay did not even let her finish " I just need you to take the phone to him Cynthia, right now."

"I can't do that. He is in a closed meeting at the moment, so unless this is an emergency I will let him know you called when I see him next."

Lindsay just hung up on her without another word.

Cynthia  waited  another thirty minutes or so before seeking him out, figuring he would have brooded long enough by then and found him still in the conference room staring down at the newspaper on the floor and smoking a cigarette.

He did not look up when she came in.

" I know, I will call her back. Thanks for holding the front line."

"Brian, are you sure? You can still change your mind, it is not too late."

" I'm sure."

He had looked at her then, and she was struck breathless, as she always was, with the depth of his pain. It was a palpable thing. It lived and breathed and tormented him, but was so comfortable in his skin that the only avenue to reach it was his eyes. So lost, and desperate for relief and allowing none and the dark humor that, even now, mocked her not unkindly for her sympathy.

"Don't say it eriukas," spoken just above a whisper and more powerful than a shout. He had called her  _lambkin,_ in her native Lithuanian, and now had his lips pulled in and an index finger pressed to them as if to keep back a flood of words by sheer force. 

Forty-five minutes later Caryn's text that they were taking off gave Cynthia the excuse she needed to lock up and go home for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Brian called Justin's cell while being driven to Lindsay's house. He was not expecting him to answer though, and had to brace himself momentarily when he did.

"I don't want to talk to you right now." Justin didn't sound angry anymore, just hurt.

"Then why did you answer the phone?" he mocked, then deliberately care free said " I most likely won't be home tonight so don't wait up and before you get your balls in a twist over it, I'm in Toronto. Lindsay called and demanded that I come up immediately but she would not talk on the phone. So I'll see ya when I see ya."

"Brian, I need to.."

"I know, and not right now."  he disconnected. He was tired, but the headache had backed off, so that was a plus. The driver pulled to a stop in front of a house that he could only describe as not offensive on the outside. It, in fact, looked exactly like all the other houses on the street. Vinyl sided suburbia at its most nauseating.

After telling the driver he could go, he walked  the cracked sidewalk to the door but hesitated before knocking. He really wanted to see Gus and Jenny, but was not sure if he was up to dealing with the girls. He could stay in a hotel tonight and have this, whatever it was, in the morning and pulled out his cell to call the driver back. Fate, it seemed, was not on his side. He saw the curtain in the front window move and knew his son had spotted him from his appointed watch station on the back of the couch and it was confirmed when, seconds later, the door opened   and he was tackled by the bullet of boy that launched into him knowing full well his daddy was going to catch him. 

Brian pulled him up and squeezed him tight then spun a couple of times in a circle to Gus' delighted laughter. Stepping in and closing the door he set his son down to hang up his coat and set his briefcase on the table in the entryway. Gus was already trying to pull off his dad's shoes, because that always meant he would stay overnight, and Brian did not try to stop him.

"I've been waiting forever for you to get here daddy, and mommy said i could wait in the window if I  ate everything on my plate at dinner and I did and I saw the big black car and i knew it was you but  I'm not 'lowed to open the door till I see you and I'm so happy you're here 'cuz school is boring and Mommy said I don't hafta go tomorrow if you stay and will you stay Daddy, 'cuz we are sposed to have to have teams at school tomorrow and I'm the only boy on my team, 'cuz the girls keep on picking me for everything, and it's okay sometimes but I want to stay with you and play Transformers and Legos and erection a fort and"

"Take a breath Sonny-boy and help me find the ladies of the house that seem to be conspicuously absent from this scene." Brian caught the look of anticipation on the face that was so like his own and raised a brow in question at his son who made the motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. 

"Been practicing have we?" He whispered, and straightened to draw in a lungful of air and started to sing, "Someday my prince will come, someday we'll meet again, and away to his castle we'll go," Gus almost peed himself he was so excited as his little sister toddled in from the next room on shaky legs. Arms up in the air and a bit of drool sliding out of her mouth.

"Better get her, cuz she still falls sometimes she tries to run, and then she cries and it's really loud." Gus obviously loved his sister and went to hold her hand for the rest of their journey. They made a striking pair, the two of them. Gus with his auburn hair and hazel eyes and Jenny with her already long black locks and big brown eyes that twisted something in Brian's gut every time he looked at them. When they reached him, they were scooped up and carried to the back of the house and the kitchen he figured the girls were hiding in.

His suspicions were correct, as he found both of them drinking out of mugs at the tiny breakfast table when he entered with Jenny tucked in close, slobbering on his tie that she was trying to pull around her own neck, and Gus secured and hanging like a sack of potatoes under his other arm giggling like only a child can. 

That unguarded moment stole Lindsay's breath away. This man she had known her whole adult life adored her children and it showed in the casual stance and the softness of his hooded gaze as he absently rubbed his forehead on Jenny's hair. Gus finally managed to squirm free and the moment was broken. Melanie, whether she saw it or not, rose and tried to take her daughter  from Brian, but Jenny was not interested. She had his tie in one hand and the other fisted in the hair hanging just above his ear babbling something into the side of his face that only she understood, and refused to go.

"It's fine Mel. After all, what real princess would choose the dragon over the prince anyway?" He slid into the empty seat at the table next to his son and saw the look that passed between the other two adults and figured that they wanted to get right to the matter at hand and suggested to Gus that he go get the material for the fort, while his Moms were distracted.Gus took off on his scavenger hunt and Jenny settled herself into a semi-reclining position on Brian's lap, where she stuck a thumb in her mouth and toyed with the tie he had slipped off and was now dangling for her amusement.

"We wanted to talk to you in person because it concerns Gus."and Lindsay stammered a bit as the laser stare focused entirely on her. "He's fine, in fact he's great." She reassured him and he relaxed somewhat and went back to dangling.

"Well, Gus was acting out a little in class so we decided to have him tested and" Brian cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"So, basically our son (proprietary to Mel's chagrin) acted normal and you took him to a head shrinker?"

Mel piped in "Just listen Brian."

Lindsay continued "Any way, the results are that there is a very distinct chance that our son is talented and maybe even gifted, so we are going to have to come up with a plan for his new enriched education."

Brian relaxed all the way, once he realized that this whole trip was to butter him up for money.  _And why does that hurt just a little bit?_  He stared at the ducks under umbrellas printed on Jenny's pajamas but they did not have the answer either. Ignoring Mel, because he did it so well and it irritated her to no end, he fixed Lindsay with a pointed stare  and said "We will talk about this tomorrow. Tonight I'm tired and wondering what I have to do around here to  get a meal so I don't have to eat this tasty morsel on my lap." And he lifted the toddler up and pretended to make a meal out of her belly while she squealed in delight.

 


End file.
